Page 23 of Zinnia and the Zombie
They bit into the fruit simultaneously. Sweetness exploded across her tongue, followed by a subtle tartness that balanced the flavor perfectly. Juice dribbled down her chin, and she laughed, wiping it away.
“Oh, that’s incredible,” she moaned, quickly finishing her half. “Better than any blueberry I’ve ever had.”
He nodded, looking pleasantly surprised. “Nutritious as well. I can detect significant energy values.”
“You can taste its nutritional content?” She raised her eyebrows.
“My species evolved as energy processors. We can assess potential fuel sources through multiple senses.”
“Handy trick,” she said, reaching for another fruit. “Especially now.”
They sampled several more varieties after he confirmed them as safe. Her spirits soared with each new discovery. This garden wasn’t just survival—it was abundance.
“We could actually make a home here,” she said, smiling at him.
He watched her, his expression thoughtful. “You adapt quickly to new circumstances.”
“Necessity,” she replied with a half-smile. “Mama was always moving around. But I’ve always liked a challenge.”
“This is an unprecedented challenge,” he pointed out.
“True. But…” She hesitated, then decided to be honest. “There’s a certain freedom in knowing that I can’t go back. I don’t have to worry about getting deliveries on time or wondering if I’ll be able to pay the bills. Everything we need is right here.”
Their eyes met on the last words and she saw the realization that had suddenly struck her reflected in his gaze.
They had food and shelter—and each other.
Suddenly shy, she turned back to the garden, spotting a particularly unusual plant nestled between two larger shrubs. It resembled a crystalline sculpture more than a plant, withtranslucent, faceted leaves catching the sunlight and fracturing it into rainbows.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” She leaned closer, enchanted by the way light played through its structure.
The plant bore small fruits that looked like perfectly formed jewels, glittering with internal light. Without thinking, she reached out to touch one, but her arm brushed against one of the glass-like leaves. Pain sliced across her forearm and she jerked back with a cry, clutching her arm as blood welled from the long cut.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The bright crimson of Zinnia’s blood against her pale skin horrified Jaxx. His protective instincts roared to life, and heat surged through his limbs, burning away the lingering weakness that had plagued him since their crash.
His concern for her overrode every other consideration as he gently examined the wound. The cut ran from just below her elbow halfway to her wrist, deep enough that blood flowed freely, but not dangerously so.
“I’m okay,” she said, wincing. “It’s just a cut. Those leaves are sharper than they look.”
“The edges are clean. No signs of toxins.” He tore a strip from the bottom of the shirt she was wearing and wrapped it carefully around her arm.
“I should have been more careful,” she said apologetically. “I got carried away.”
“Your enthusiasm is understandable.” He carefully secured the makeshift bandage. “But perhaps approach unknown species with more caution in the future.”
“I will. Thank you,” she added softly.
“I should not have allowed harm to come to you, my Zinnia.”
“You didn’t.” She flexed her fingers, testing the bandage. “I was the one who was careless, and it’s really not bad.”
“It still requires proper treatment.” The makeshift bandage would stem the bleeding temporarily, but there was still the chance of infection or additional bleeding.
Without asking permission, he scooped her into his arms. Her soft warmth felt natural against his chest, as though she belonged there.
She gasped at the sudden movement, but her uninjured arm wrapped around his neck. “I can walk, you know. It’s just a cut.”
